CHAPTER THIRTY ONE

THE TOUGHEST

Angeline felt a foreign warmth hover over her as the scent of old spice shower gel filled her nostrils. For a brief moment, it didn't matter – her eyes were closed and she was relaxed. However, something clicked and she shot up in a panic. Her gasp made Mitch jump from where he had been reaching over her to undo her seatbelt, his hands quickly stabilising her shoulders and stopping her from instinctively whacking him.

"It's okay, it's okay," Mitch said immediately, his tone firm and yet somehow so gentle. "It's just me. I was unbuckling your seatbelt. We're here."

Angeline swallowed the lump in her throat and attempted to ignore the blush creeping up her cheeks. "You should have just woken me up," she mumbled, undoing the seat belt herself as Mitch stepped back.

"I didn't want to," he admitted, "You're exhausted. You kept nearly falling asleep for a good two hours."

"I've been asleep for hours?"

It felt like she had only blinked. Her body still felt so heavy and sore, like it wasn't really her own and she was just wearing it. Angeline didn't want it. She wanted to abandon it and start fresh in a body that hadn't been abused and scarred and humiliated.

Mitch held onto the door as Angeline stepped outside, glancing around. The sun was setting, casting orange hues all around. The other people that Angeline had seen before with Mitch were nowhere to be seen, but she didn't question it. She couldn't be bothered and she had more worrying problems to dwell about. Like how she had seen her brother be murdered right in front of her, the torture she had endured, the fact that Mitch was alive and not actually dead, and whether or not the same could be said for her friends Paige and Ciara...

She hoped they were okay. If they'd suffered because of her shitty family then she would never in a million years forgive herself.

As she followed Mitch into a large house, which she assumed was yet another temporary safe house (God was she sick of those – but not as much as those dingy motels), all she could think of was how she was never going to be able to get over any of this. Many of her scars and wounds would heal with time, but the things she had witnessed and the people she had lost...

Angeline was terrified that along the way, she'd lost herself too. If that was the case, she would have lost everything. There would be no point in Mitch fixing up her wounds and trying to protect her anymore – there was nothing left of her.

"I want a shower first," Angeline said once they were in the foyer.

"No, we should –"

"Please, I feel like shit," she said quietly. "I'll be ten minutes maximum. I just want the blood off of me – and I want clean clothes and – and to feel like myself. The door can stay unlocked."

Mitch hesitated for a moment before he gave a small nod. "It stays open. I'll keep my back to you."

Angeline couldn't be bothered to argue, nor did she want to. She was just happy to be able to clean herself. It would be the first step of ridding what the Williams' had done to her.

Mitch gave her some towels and turned the water on warm for her. He stood in the door frame, his back to her like he had promised. Angeline pulled off her clothes and climbed inside. She immediately hissed, her body screaming at her to get out of the water – to stop torturing her wounds. The water slipping down the drain was tinted with her blood.

She stayed there, gently wiping all of her bruises and scratches and damaged skin until she deemed it clean enough. Angeline scrubbed her knotted hair and brushed it out with her fingers. Mitch called to ask if she was okay a couple of times and when he heard the water flick off, he had a towel being held out to her, his head still turned away.

"Thanks," Angeline muttered and moved to the sink as she wrapped it around herself.

"That toothbrush is for you," Mitch said, pointing to the one in the pot. "I'll get you some clean clothes. Then we're assessing those wounds."

Angeline nodded and began to scrub her teeth.

"Sit on the couch," Mitch murmured.

Angeline blinked, furrowing her brows at his order. Then she realised they were standing in a living room. She wetted her lips fearfully, worried over how she kept seemingly blacking out. Patches of her memory were missing. One moment something was happening, and the next something completely different. She didn't remember dressing or leaving the bathroom. Her hair was back in two messy, wet plaits.

Nevertheless, she kept quiet and did as she was told. Mitch emerged from a room to the side with a black bag in his hands. He set it down and began to pull out plenty of medical equipment. Angeline's breath hitched.

"What?" Mitch paused, looking at her. "Is something wrong?"

Everything is wrong, Mitch. What kind of dumbass question is that?

"I don't want it to hurt," Angeline admitted, embarrassed.

Mitch's face gave nothing away as he sat down on the coffee table in front of her. "It will hurt a lot more if some of these wounds get infected, Angeline. Let me help you."

Angeline nodded timidly. "Okay. Can you talk to me while you do it?"

"Yeah," Mitch murmured as he took her arm. "This one's bleeding again. You must've rubbed too hard in the shower.I suppose you don't want to talk to me about it yet?"

"The idea of you talking to me is to take my mind off of it, genius. So no," Angeline spat.

She missed the sparkling glint of amusement in Mitch's whisky eyes, too busy glaring down at the bloody mess on her forearm. It was nice to know she hadn't completely lost that tongue of hers.

"How is it that you are alive, anyway?" Angeline said, "I... I thought you were dead."

"Well," Mitch said, keeping his eyes trained on her wound as he cleaned it. "Thanks to you, the ambulance got to me in time. That's how I'm alive."

Talkative as ever.

"They told me you were dead," she swallowed. "Thought I was seeing a ghost at first. Or hallucinating."

"I'm very much alive," Mitch said.

"I can see that."

"You know, Angeline," Mitch muttered as he wiped away the stained crimson colour. "It's not very nice to talk to people like that. Especially someone who just saved your life."

Angeline quirked an eyebrow, gritting her teeth in pain when she felt him start to properly clean it. Whatever solution he was placing on her arm stung like a bitch, but it was nowhere near as bad as the actual slicing into her arm had been. She'd had no choice but to scream the whole way through that.

"I thought that was just part of the job description," Angeline hissed through the pain. "So I don't really owe you any sweet words, do I?"

Mitch went silent for a few moments. "That wasn't part of the job description," he murmured quietly.

Angeline's brows furrowed in confusion. "What?"

He applied the gauze over her wound, smoothing it down as gently as he could. It still ached and now it burned from being cleaned, but Angeline was more focused on the words leaving Mitch's lips as his fingers rubbed down the edges, making sure it stuck properly.

"Your dumbass left the codes in that book. My superior wanted to give up on you," Mitch said, feeling himself grow angry all over again for a moment. "But I promised you, didn't I? So I'm here now."

Her heart skipped a beat. Something warm and terrifying flooded her, and then, without thinking much about it, Angeline reached one hand to grab the back of his head and she yanked him towards her mouth. Their lips met for what felt like the first time in forever. Mitch was clearly taken by surprise for a split second, but the next, his hands were on the sides of her face, his long fingers in her hair, his tongue slipping into her mouth.

Angeline sat up straighter on the couch as Mitch leaned closer from the coffee table. They clung to each other, rising so they were standing – so they could feel their bodies against each other. She needed him against her. Not sexually, but... just against her. Angeline had never needed anyone so badly in her entire life.

She remembered the own silent confession she'd made in her head when she thought Mitch was dead whilst she'd been tied to that chair. Angeline was pretty sure that she'd fallen in love with him.

She pulled away, both of them panting ever so slightly, their foreheads resting on each other. Mitch suddenly swallowed thickly, blinking, and then moved backwards from her a little.

"Angeline, we can't do that," he muttered.

"What?" Angeline breathed, her brows furrowing. "Why not?"

"It's not professional. It's not right. You're – You've been under a lot of stress and you're dealing with trauma right now," Mitch said firmly. "And I need to look at the rest of your wounds."

Angeline felt like he had smacked her around the face.

"It's not right?" She repeated.

"No, it's not," Mitch confirmed. "We're from two completely different worlds. We shouldn't be getting involved with each other."

"It's a bit too late for that, isn't it?" Angeline said, referring to all of their previous times together. "Why weren't you saying this back then?"

"Why do you want to kiss me?" Mitch suddenly demanded.

Angeline was taken aback. "What?"

"If you want to kiss me right now because it's a distraction, then I don't want any part of that – you need to cope healthily," Mitch said firmly, "If it's because you feel like you owe me after what I just said, then I definitely do not want that either."

"What if it's neither of those things?" Angeline dared him boldly, her heart pounding out of her chest.

Mitch's chest heaved slightly as he stared down at her. He was quiet for a bit. "Then you're not as smart as I thought you were," he said, his voice deep and raw.

There was a long silence. Angeline swallowed yet another lump in her throat. It still felt like it was lodged in there.

"Can you just finish up?" She asked him quietly. "I'm exhausted and I need to sleep. Clearly I'm not thinking straight. Must be why I keep blacking out."

Something flashed across Mitch's face but he gave her a nod anyway. "Yeah. Sit down."

Angeline stared at the floor whilst Mitch cleaned up the rest of her. She didn't know if she had been rejected completely, but everything hurt. It certainly took her mind off of Mitch's work on her cuts.

God, she had messed up falling for him.

Angeline prayed this was just one of those things that happened when you're in a life or death situation and this was the aftermath. As she trudged up the stairs to find a bed to rest in, Angeline hoped with all of her heart that she'd wake up and any feelings she thought she had for Mitch Rapp would be gone.

...

Her sobs echoed through the bedroom. The curtains stifled the sunlight trying desperately to peek through, but Angeline wanted to be left alone in the dark. Her hands covered her face. She'd grown past the point of trying to keep her cries silent. She wanted to punch everything and find her father and hurt him like he'd hurt her. He'd ruined everything.

Angeline had tossed and turned for hours the night before. Her eventual sleep had been plagued by several different nightmares of everything that had happened. When she woke and there was daylight, it was the pain in her forearm that triggered the tears. As she peeled back the gauze to reveal the ugly scar, she lost control of herself.

Her life was ruined. Everything was. Angeline was ruined.

There was no knock when Mitch let himself in. He held no weapons. He seemed to recognise that her sobs were out of pain rather than anything else. He moved closer to her, sitting on the edge of her bed. Angeline buried her face deeper into her hands, not wanting him to see her swollen eyes.

"Go away, Mitch," Angeline pleaded with him. "I wanna be by myself."

"You need to keep your arm covered," was all he replied with.

Angeline felt an indescribable amount of rage fill her. Suddenly, she ripped her hands away from her face and grabbed her pillow from behind her. Angeline began to furiously whack him with it.

"You – arsehole!" Angeline shrieked. "All – you – ever fucking do – is pretend you don't care!"

Mitch grabbed the pillow from her. "Angeline –"

"I talk to you, and you reply like a fucking robot or a bloody NPC in a video game!" She cried, "You're – You're like one of the most emotionally detached people that I know, and even if it's part of your fucking job, I feel like we've been through enough for you to start acting like a – like a human being around me!"

"Angeline," Mitch said again, his tone carrying a lot more authority and warning than before. "Stop –"

"I told you I want to be alone," Angeline cut him off. "Just listen to me!"

"No, you listen to me," Mitch ordered roughly, grabbing the hand closest to him, forcing her to still. "Stop screaming and yelling at me. It will get you nowhere."

"Don't talk to me like I'm a child," Angeline hissed, yanking her hand back.

"I'm not –" Mitch was clearly struggling not to snap too badly at her, his hand running through his messy hair as he tried to calm down. "Look, I'm not trying to, but – but you're really hard to get people to listen to, Angeline."

Angeline, much to Mitch's surprise and slight horror, only bent her head back into her hands to cry. He'd never seen her stop arguing like this before. She always tried to get the last word in – and she never did this.

"Fuck," Angeline suddenly cursed, pulling away to furiously wipe her tears. "Do you know what I do?" She hissed angrily. "I – I sit here, and I cry. I cry and I cry and I cry. And it just – it just makes this so much more true." Angeline yanked up the sleeve of her shirt where her scar was. "I don't want to be a crybaby. I don't want to act like a child or a princess or any of that shit. But nobody listens to me. Nobody ever listened to me."

She felt arms wrap around her, but she barely processed it. Her head leant on a chest, but Angeline could only sob more.

"And – And he knew everything about me. He threatened to make me sick over and over, and he – they stripped me and beat me and talked about my dad and my brother and my mum. He kept waterboarding me – again and again. And then he carved this into my arm, and I'll have to keep it for the rest of my life and it makes me feel like – like complete shit." Angeline struggled to breathe through her cries. "And Elliot! Oh, fuck, Mitch. He was still my brother. He was still my big brother."

"I know," Mitch whispered, rubbing her arm, his face contorted with pain as his own memories of Millie filled his head. "I know."

Mitch stared down at the crying girl in his arms and felt every heart string tug agonisingly. She was far too young to feel this amount of pain. No good human in the world should go through what she had at the age of eighteen.

"I hope Ciara and Paige are okay," Angeline sniffled. "I will never ever forgive myself if they're not."

"I've asked my superior to check," Mitch replied. "The CIA haven't had any murders or missing people reports for either of their names, so hopefully it was just a lie to get you to cave in. And if... if something did happen, Angeline, then it is not your fault."

Angeline closed her eyes and didn't say anything. "Thank you. I never said thank you for saving me."

"It's okay," Mitch whispered. "You don't have to thank me. And not because it's my job, but because..." Mitch hesitated. "Because I think you'd do the same thing for me."

Angeline didn't even have to think before she nodded her head. "Yeah," she croaked. "I think I definitely would."

He released a small chuckle. It vibrated through Mitch's chest to Angeline's body.

"You're not a crybaby," Mitch muttered after a few moments of silence. "Angeline Lewis, you are the toughest person I know. I've met a lot of big men with muscles and years of assassination experience, but nobody has quite put me in my place like you have."

The corner of her lips tugged up slightly. She felt her body begin to rest properly.

Those feelings definitely hadn't vanished.

...

i know this is quite short, but it felt right to end it there. i didnt realise how much i missed writing mitch and angeline together until i jumped back into this. i felt oddly motivated today :) new year new me lol

thanks so much for reading <3333

word count: 2.9k

dyiansobrien.